


Bleeding Hearts

by remuslupinlover



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: F/M, Falling In Love, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Spoilers, True Love
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-11
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-01 00:08:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 18,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11474496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/remuslupinlover/pseuds/remuslupinlover
Summary: Wonder Woman AU where the Gods' have soul mates. Sir Patrick Morgan finds his in the form of a young new secretary Eleanor Bell. Ares must fight his own battle between his hatred of humans and letting this small woman find her way inside his heart.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a LONG time since I've written anything, but something about David Thewlis's performance of Sir Patrick Morgan inspired me to throw my little ideas together. This will be more snippets, but perhaps if this is enjoyed then I can fill in more.

Eleanor Bell glanced at the clock on the wall behind her once more. 

10:04

She swore under her breath before shifting back into her plastic chair, unfolding the paper in her lap.

The job interview was for a full time secretary position under a Sir Patrick Morgan, an advocate member of the British War Council working out of London. The letter’s writing was crisply typed, at the bottom was a handsome signature of this Sir Patrick Morgan. The edges of the paper were starting to crumple from being handled by the anxious Eleanor. Those few interested in the position were to arrive at the giant office building off of Hurd Street at 8:00 in the morning for open interviews. Eleanor had stepped inside the bustling office building where men gripping briefcases rushed inside tipping their hats as they passed. Women in tube skirts and tight blouses scurried past carrying stacks of paper or telegrams waiting to be opened by the esteem War Council members. 

The front desk attendant was caught up with two different phone calls, furiously clicking away at her typewriter, and barely gave a glance when Eleanor unfolded and showed the busy woman the flyer. The attendant pressed her phone between her ear and shoulder long enough to point up the stairwell. Eleanor smiled and mouthed a thank you. 

That was over an hour ago, and now Eleanor wiggled uncomfortably in the small plastic chair outside Sir Patrick Morgan’s main office. Three other women had been waiting alongside Eleanor. Two older women with grey hair sat against the opposite wall, chatting nicely as they showed each other pictures of their grandchildren and their knitting projects they had brought with them. It was almost calming to watch the large needles weave skillfully around each other in a sort of dance of thread. The first of the older ladies was called into the office and stayed inside for only twenty minutes. The second woman stayed inside for thirty, making Eleanor bite her nails. 

A girl not much older than Eleanor was sitting on Eleanor’s left. Very pretty and wearing a cute cream blouse and brown curled hair. The girl was reading a book but Eleanor could see the girl hadn’t left her current page in quite some time. The girl’s tapping foot gave Eleanor slight comfort in knowing they were both equally nervous. When the office door was opened and the girl, Margot, was called inside, she and Eleanor locked eyes for a brief moment. Margot shyly smiled and Eleanor returned it in hopes to calm the young girl. 

Eleanor folded up the paper and stuffed it in her bag, willing herself to take a breath. 

It was just a job interview. A great job with a wonderful paying rate that would help Eleanor’s family immensely. She was fresh out of school and ready join the working world in hopes to support her sickly mother and younger brother. 

Hopefully this Sir Patrick Morgan would take a liking to her. 

" " " " " 

The first interview had his head reeling and the second nearly put him to sleep. And while the older ladies wouldn’t stop talking, the young girl after them had hardly spoken a single word. He had to pry out his questions with a forced smile, trying hard not to roll his eyes when he was met with a whimper from the terrified child. 

Sir Patrick Morgan took a deep breath while pouring himself a hefty glass of whiskey near his office window. When the council suggested a secretary he politely declined, but no one could deny that trying to end a war had the paper piling up. The fact that Sir Patrick Morgan was helping Axis powers doubled his work. He was forced into a corner and had to get a secretary. 

How hard was it to find one single human that wouldn’t make him want to punch a wall? He thought, sipping the whiskey and enjoy the burn sliding down his throat.

One last interview. Hopefully this last girl would be at least up to the task because Sir Patrick was running out of options. He waved his hand behind him, signaling for his temporary helper Bertie to open the door and call for the last interviewee. 

Footsteps clicked against the hallway’s wooden floors before being silenced by the office carpet. 

“Your resume ma’am?” Bertie’s asked as Sir Patrick took another sip of his whiskey, back still turned away from the doorway. 

“Right here Sir.” A warm voice answered. “My name’s Eleanor Bell; it’s a pleasure to meet you Sir Patrick Morgan.” 

Electric shocks shoot up Sir Patrick’s back and arms making his head feel light. This sweet voice that felt like a warm blanket encompassing him, wrapping around him and melting away his headache. 

“Oh no Miss, I’m Bertie, his Sir’s helper. That there is Sir Patrick,” Bertie corrected. 

Sir Patrick chuckled. No doubt the girl wouldn’t have known what he looks like, she had only gotten his flyer. He turned then, ready to greet this woman properly. 

“Lovely to meet you Ms. Be-“ Sir Patrick was cut short as he fully faced Bertie and this young woman. 

Her dark blue eyes met his and he could almost feel his heart stop beating. His first gut reaction was pure anger, nothing but intense rage. The Gods had lied to him. Sir Patrick clenched his jaw, teeth grinding as he thought of all the saddened talk in Olympus about Ares never meeting his soul mate. “In due time I’m sure,” Zeus had said into his wine glass. “Perhaps his soul mate is lost,” young Apollo had whispered in passing. “Perhaps his soul mate is dead!” Artemis had joked back. 

But here she stood right in front of him. With dark eyes and darker hair, pinned and braided in the back. Sir Patrick swallowed as his eyes traveled down her bared neck, following the silver chain tucked inside the collar of her blouse, falling in between her lovely breasts. Her grey pinstriped blouse matched well with the black pencil shirt hugging her curved thighs and hips. She wore simple black heels, and the way she shifted her weight back and forth told him that she was uncomfortable in them. She couldn’t have stood taller than 5 foot 3, putting him over a foot taller than her.

But Gods, she was beautiful. She was beautiful and he had no doubt in his mind that she was his soul mate. And that made him grind his teeth harder, blood pounding in his ears. He could feel himself shaking and felt more electricity shoot up his body into his arms. 

He barely heard the scream when the whiskey glass in his hand exploded.


	2. Chapter 2

She saw fire in his eyes. 

In that quick moment there was nothing but hatred. Piercing blue and looking right through her. It almost hurt to keep the eye contact, she felt fear but something else, something primal stirring deep inside of her. 

When he first turned around, Eleanor took in the full sight of him. He was unconventionally handsome, but looking at him took Eleanor’s breath away. He was so tall compared to her short 5 foot 3. 

He was dressed impeccably to say the least. A dark blue jacket hugged his broad shoulders and a thick layer of dress shirt, vest, and tie buttoned up to his neck. A golden pocket watch’s chain hung from inside his vest. Slicked back hair above droopy eyes and furrowed brow. A thick mustache hiding pink pointed lips. Wrinkles that showed maturity and life experience, especially around his eyes. 

God his eyes. Still staring directly at her. 

She glanced down towards the glass of alcohol gripped tightly in his hand right as it shattered.

She couldn’t help but let out a scream, watching in horror as the glass shards fell to the floor, leaving behind a bloodied hand belonging to Sir Patrick Morgan.

Her heart raced with panic, the idea of bolting out of the office flickered through her mind before quickly disappearing. 

“My God! Are you alright?” She found her voice, gingerly taking a step towards the injured man, his eyes still burning into her. His mouth opened and closed silently as she quickly took the remaining steps to stand in front of him. 

Eleanor reached out to lightly touch his bleeding hand. A twitch of energy flickered at the touch, shooting up Eleanor’s arm and straight to her heart, causing her to gasp as she looked back into Sir Patrick’s eyes. In an instant they had changed from pure hatred to something so warm and inviting. 

As if he had finally awoken from a daydream after the touch, Sir Patrick tugged his hand away from Eleanor. 

“Yes, yes, of course!” He chuckled nervously, turning away from her to grab the bar rag and hold it against his hand. 

“Bertie, be a good lad and go get me a medical kit would you?” he called out, glancing over his shoulder towards Bertie but his eyes falling on Eleanor instead. 

“Right away Sir!” Bertie answered, halfway out the door by the time Sir Patrick turned back around. 

“There might still be glass in your hand Sir.” Eleanor spoke softly, leaning forward to gently touch the arm of his jacket. “Perhaps I could take a look?” 

“T-that’s quite alright.” Sir Patrick said, looking at the shards of glass littering the carpet. “Silly of me, really.” 

“Don’t know your own strength?” Eleanor joked, eyeing the man’s face. 

Sir Patrick looked over to Eleanor, looking straight into her eyes once again. It was like a hypnotic trance pulling at Eleanor’s very being, stealing her breath away. She glanced down at his pointed lips, the lines around his mouth tugging upwards in a lopsided smile. His smile was enchanting, Eleanor thought, feeling her heart beat a tad faster. 

“ “ “ “ 

She was infuriatingly cute. 

Cute. 

It was a word he would never have used before. Nothing in his life was cute. 

But this tiny lady. This girl standing before him with the most beautiful eyes he’d ever seen and freckles trailing across the bridge of her nose in the most elegant of patterns. She had touched him and he had seen stars. Just the mere presence of her was overwhelming, filling up every sense. 

He could feel himself smile at her joke, shaking his head while peeling away the rag on his hand. 

“Not the best impression when starting an interview I suppose,” he said, watching her reach out again towards his injured right hand, the electricity running down his spine. Her finger tips gently drew the bloody cloth away so she could assess the true damage. Small pieces of glass were embedded in his skin, blood thinly covering his palm. 

He could have healed flawlessly in an instance but the way she had approached him made him curious. She had so readily stepped towards him, ready to help. Any amount of her touch was welcomed by him, wishing for more. His hand shifted in hers, coming under Eleanor’s to wrap around her wrist, pull her towards him, and hold her. 

Bertie came bursting through the door right as Sir Patrick’s fingertips brushed along the side of Eleanor’s wrist, wanting to grip onto her. Eleanor pulled away to face Bertie, leaving Sir Patrick’s hand to drift back down to his side. 

“Bet e’ry thing you needs in there,” Bertie said smartly, taking a deep breath like he had run a mile. 

“Thank you kindly Bertie.” Sir Patrick said as Eleanor took the kit from the other man, opening it upon Sir Patrick’s desk. He curiously watched her dig around the kit. 

“Bertie,” Eleanor said turning to the other man with a kind smile. “Would you mind getting a bowl of water please?” she asked, opening a sealed bag of tweezers. 

“Right away Miss!” Bertie called before sprinting out the door again. 

“Rather odd man?” Sir Patrick mussed. 

Eleanor smiled at him, holding out her hand once more for him to place his in. 

“Very helpful though.” She replied with a smile. “Would you like to sit down?” Her eyes drifted towards the leather chair behind his desk.

Sir Patrick leaned to grab his cane that was hooked onto the bar with his left hand. His right injured hand grasped Eleanor’s fingers, gently tugging her in the direction of the desk.

It was a slightly awkward amble to the desk with his cane and trying to not separate their hand holding but Sir Patrick ending up in his desk chair with Eleanor crouched next to his chair, slightly bent over his hand resting on the desk top. 

She used the bar rag to gently wipe away what blood she could from his hand. Using the tweezers to carefully pinch onto the glass, letting the shards drop into a somewhat pile on his desk. She looked incredibly focused on the task, biting her bottom lip in concentration. 

He wanted to hear her voice. 

“Tell me about yourself.” He said quietly, head tilted as he watched her wipe away more blood from his fingers. She gave a soft laugh, looking up at him with a grin. He smiled back. 

“The interview technically started the second you walked through the door.” He said, tilting his head to one side again. 

Eleanor blinked, biting her lips once more before turning back to check over his hand. She brushed her thumb across his palm. 

“Do you feel anymore glass?” she asked, glancing back up at him. 

“Not at all. You’ve done fine work.” He replied, spine tingling at her light touch. 

“Once Bertie gets back we can clean it proper.” She said wrapping the bar rag back around his hand, then scooping the glass shards and throwing them in a trash bin next to his desk. 

“Right well, like I said, my name is Eleanor Bell.” She stood then, brushing her skirt and taking a small step back from Sir Patrick. His eyes flickered down to her legs, traveling discreetly up her body before stopping at her lovely face. He gestured towards the chair on the other side of his desk. 

“I was born in Scotland but we moved to Brighton when I was a little girl.” She said, walking over and taking a seat in the leather chair.

“And what brought you to London?” Sir Patrick asked, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. 

“School, I suppose.” Eleanor said softly, smile disappearing. “My father fought in the Second Boer War, became buddies with a Duke who was placed in his troop. Apparently my father saved his life.” Eleanor said with a sad smile. “The Duke felt gracious and offered to pay for my schooling in London.” 

“University? Very good.” Sir Patrick said, reaching up to brush his mustache with his good hand. 

“I graduated this past spring.” Eleanor said with a smile. “And now I’m ready to join the working world. I’m very good at typing Sir. I was the fastest in my classes. And I know Morse code like the back of my hand.” 

“Very good, very good.” Sir Patrick repeated, feeling his jaw twitch as he watched her mouth. Those beautiful pink lips she kept biting on. She was nervous, but then again, he was too. He twirled the end of his mustache once more before letting his hand drop down to the arm of the chair. 

“You take your education very seriously.” He said plainly, smiling when she nodded. “I appreciate that.” 

Eleanor blushed, readjusting in the chair across from him. 

"And what would you like to do with your education?" He asked, his good hand mindlessly pressing patterns into his arm chair. 

She blinked, brow furrowing. "I want to become a secretary." she said plainly with a small smile. 

Sir Patrick chuckled and waved his hand with a huff. 

"No, no, my Dear. What do you really want to do?" he asked, eyes crinkling as he smiled at her. "Surely being a secretary isn't your life long passion?" 

The pretty pink on her cheeks darkened as she smiled sheepishly up at him. 

"No being a secretary is not my...dream job." she said with a smile. She bit her lip again. "You'll laugh at me if I tell you." 

Sir Patrick's eyebrows shot up. This little lady had some secrets. Then again, so did he. 

He nodded with a grin, willing her to go on. 

Eleanor sighed playfully, looking over at his bookshelf before laughing softly. 

"When I was a little girl I wanted to be a war general." she said looking at him. 

He could feel his mouth open slightly but clamped it shut quickly when he felt it watering. Imagines of this small woman brandishing a war sword and shield, slashing away at enemies with a triumphant grin flashed through his head. Fire crackling under her feet as she carried herself strongly through battle. Him by her side. 

Sir Patrick swallowed, blinking when he realized she had started talking again. 

"It was a childish dream." she laughed. "I wanted to follow my father's footstep but later on Brighton became a sort of military hospital and I trained with a few nurses for a year before leaving for London University. After seeing the horrors in Brighton I thought a more...stationary job would be nice. I suppose now I just want to find a suitable job to help support my mother." 

"What does she do?" 

Eleanor frowned, eyes shifting in her chair. 

"She's a laundry woman, Sir. It's hard work, but not enough." Eleanor replied, hands restless in her lap. "She was the one that heard about your secretary position." she said with a smile. 

"You want to support your family." Sir Patrick said softly, heart beating quickly as the idea of her as a bloodied warrior shifted into her as a Goddess, wrapped in white robes, smiling as children frolicked around her. 

"Yes, Sir. And working for you allows for me to support my family and be connected to war efforts." 

“ “ “ “   
She watched his blue eyes as he tilted his head to the side. His mustache twitched up when he gave her a lopsided smile. It was a very handsome smile, she thought. A smile that didn’t seem to come very often. She watched his tongue sneak out behind straight teeth and lick his lips quickly. She swallowed, fighting her tongue from doing the same. 

A knock on the door helped her shake the intrusive thoughts. Bertie peaked around the door frame, holding a small bowl of water and bandages.

Eleanor smiled, standing to thank the other man and take the bowl from him. 

She turned back towards Sir Patrick, cautiously taking a step around his desk to kneel in her position from before. After setting the bowl and bandages on the desk she reached out her hands towards him. He moved his injured hand towards her, letting her gently unwrap the bloodied bar rag. She cradled his hand in her left, letting her right hand’s fingertips drift across his palm, sending tiny shocks up her spine, heating her face. 

She reached out to dip the rag into the water, wiping away the rest of the blood on his palm. His long hand rested gently in hers, giving her a sense of calm. Eleanor could feel herself blushing so she kept her head down to focus on the task at hand. 

Once the hand was properly washed, Eleanor took a long strip of the gauze to wrap around it, pulling the bandage snug before tying it off. 

She sighed, looking up at Sir Patrick with a smile. His piercing eyes were watching her carefully, as if a million thoughts were running through his handsome head. 

His hand turned over in hers, fingers brushing along her wrist, feeling her pulse beating wildly. She glanced down, watching his thumb brush over her own palm, sending shivers along her spine. When she looked back up his mouth was slightly open, as if words were teasing his tongue. His sad eyes staring deep into hers. 

“Sir?” Bertie broke the silence from near the door. “Should I ah, take the med kit back?” 

Sir Patrick’s hand drew away from Eleanor, he gaze turning towards his helper. 

“Yes, yes.” He said waving his good hand towards Bertie and the door. “Thank you Bertie. Would you kindly show Ms. Bell out?” 

Eleanor’s heart raced. The interview was already over? They had barely talked! He hadn’t even read her resume. 

Just as she was going to say those thoughts Sir Patrick stood, grabbing his cane and turning his towering form away from her. 

She stood again, brushing her skirt and looking over towards Bertie who had grabbed the med kit and pointed towards the door, “I’ll be right outside Miss.” 

Eleanor nodded, watching as Sir Patrick made his way towards the door. That was it then, she thought with a flash of anger at herself. She had made a fool of herself and he was going to give the job to one of the grannies. 

She’ll have to find a different job to help her mother and little brother. No doubt the cabinets were empty of food this week. Her mother had barely made a cent washing clothes. 

Eleanor stepped around the desk, picking up her small bag next to the chair. She walked towards the door, head down as thoughts of other jobs ran through her mind. 

“ “ “ “ 

He was sending her away so he could process his thoughts. 

Finding out that your soul mate is alive and more than that, right in front of you, was quite a complex mess of emotions. 

Sir Patrick watched Eleanor nervously bite her lip and she stepped closer towards the door. She was infuriatingly beautiful with the light from the window catching on her face and dark braided hair. 

He had to touch her one more time. 

He held out his injured hand towards her, watching her blink before gently taking it in hers. 

“Thank you for this opportunity Sir Morgan. I very much appreciate it.” She said with a sad smile, leaving his heart beating faster. “I hope you find the perfect assistant.” 

He swallowed, letting his thumb brush against the back of her hand. She glanced down at their joined hands, a small smile playing across her lips. 

“Whenever I got cuts or scrapes as a kid my mother use to…use to kiss them to make them heal faster.” She said softly.

Her cheeks were turning a lovely shade of pink as she brought her left hand up to her lips, brushing her fingertips against her mouth before gently pressing them against the back of his hand holding her right. 

Sir Patrick swallowed again, jaw clenching to restrain himself from acting rash. He felt his legs wobble, making him lean on his cane, knuckles almost white in a dead grip on the handle. 

His tongue felt tied in a knot but he somehow managed a gruff “thank you”. He nodded as he held open the door, watching her pull away and step across the threshold. Bertie made some comment and she began following him back down the long hallway towards the stairwell. His eyes drifted quickly over her body before she glanced over her shoulder, giving him one last smile. 

Sir Patrick closed his office door and let his back fall against it with a thump. The wood felt cool against the back of his head, offering some relief to the warmth he felt throughout his entire body; his hand burned against his side. He brought it up to his mouth, breathing against the rough gauze with a small smile. With a huff he tugged his tie loose and pulled it away from his constricting neck. 

He’d save the phone call until tomorrow. 

Right now he needed another glass of whiskey. 

“ “ “ “ 

“Ellie, wake up!” 

Eleanor blinked, eyes squinting as the morning sun blinded her from her bedroom window. She grunted, moving to sit up in bed. She reached up to rub her eyes groggily, letting them drop down to see her little brother George sitting on her bed. 

“Nice bed head,” Eleanor joked, running her hand across the little boy’s wild brown hair. He climbed farther on the bed, shaking her hand away.

“Ellie, someone’s on the phone for you!” 

Eleanor felt her heart miss a beat. 

“What? Who?” She asked, scrambling out of bed and scurrying behind her changing wall to throw her day clothes on. 

“Some fancy pants!” George called out. “Sir Jordan or something of the like.” 

Eleanor’s fingers stuttered on the button of her blouse. She swallowed, face heating as she thought of the tall gentleman from the day before. She quickly finished buttoning her shirt, tucking the ends into her pants as she walked around the changing wall. 

“Is he still on the line?” She asked, reaching up to undo her pinned up hair, letting the dark curls fall against her shoulders. 

“Mother took the call. Said to come wake you.” George said, climbing up to stand in front of the bed. 

Eleanor grinned wickedly, giving George a quick push before running down the stairs towards the kitchen, leaving George toppled across her bed. 

“Ellie!” he screamed as she padded barefoot into the small kitchen. The phone was sitting proper on the little side table near the stairs. She had missed him. 

Her mother was standing in front of the stove, scrambling eggs in a tattered green apron. 

“Morning Mother,” Eleanor said softly, pressing a kiss against her mother’s cheek before helping spread jam on the fresh toast. 

“Just got off the line with Sir Patrick Morgan,” her mother said with a loving smile, scrapping the eggs on to three plates with her spatula. 

Eleanor blushed, taking more interest in spreading the bright jam on her toast. Her mother playfully shoved Eleanor with her shoulder, taking the plates towards the small table near the window. 

Eleanor bit her lip, containing her smile. 

“And what did Sir Morgan have to say?” she asked, heart racing as she looked over at her grinning mother.

“He said you start Thursday.


	3. Chapter 3

It was nice to finally be sitting, she thought as she wiggles her sore feet under her desk. The whole morning she had toured the office building with a dull older woman named Edith. Learning about where each room was located around the large office building, the mail room, break room, reception room, and even the utility closets and bathrooms. Learning about each rich patron and where their office was, where she could and could not loiter, and where women were and were not allowed. 

It was exhausting and frustrating to listen to hours’ worth of discrimination and gossip about who was secretly sleeping with whom and which patron had recently paid off blackmail. 

When the old Edith and Eleanor had come to a stop outside Sir Patrick Morgan’s office she thought the lesson might finally be over. But Edith cackled about the past gossip as she followed Eleanor inside, making Eleanor cringe. She was then taught all about her side office with Sir Patrick. How to answer calls, how to write coded messages, how to organize papers, which to sign and which to trash. How to address her superiors and how to interrupt a meeting in case of an emergency. Edith was nothing but strict detail making Eleanor softly sigh as she looked over at the closed connecting door to Sir Patrick’s office, wishing him to appear and send the talkative Edith away. 

When Eleanor felt the stirring of a headache Edith finally stopped talking, picking up the desk phone to call in paperwork for Eleanor to start working on. Another woman came in with a box of papers and folders, dropping them on Eleanor’s desk with a knowing sad smile. The woman and Edith disappeared from the office with a wave, leaving Eleanor finally alone to start her work. 

She gently pulled out a manila folder from the book, a report that needed retyping due to a few grammatical errors. 

She fed a fresh piece of paper into the machine with a grin, twisting the roll to lock it in place. Her fingers drifted over the clean keys of the typewriter. It surely cost a fortune. 

Eleanor loved to feel of the typewriter. Its keys gave a soft click under her fingers, the coil popping after every line with a sharp bing. It was calming. She got lost in watching the words appear on the crisp paper in the machine. 

Just as she finished the first paragraph the connecting door to Sir Patrick’s office creaked open. 

“Is she gone?” his voice called out from behind the door. 

Eleanor swallowed, looking around the empty office before looking back at the door, Sir Patrick’s head now peeking out. 

“Edith, Sir?” Eleanor asked with a small laugh when Sir Patrick nodded. “Yes, Sir. She left a few minutes ago.” 

Sir Patrick chuckled lowly, pushing the door open all the way. 

“Thank goodness. I thought I was going to lose my mind listening to her prattle on in here. I’m happy to see you survived.” He laughed, his tall body leaning against the door frame. “I apologize, I should I rescued you sooner.”

Eleanor laughed, hiding her blushing face from Sir Patrick as she looked back down at her typewriter. 

“Are you settling in alright, Ms. Bell?” Sir Patrick asked, his blue eyes sparkling from the light from the window.

She smiled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she over at him. “It’s all very lovely, Sir. Thank you.” 

His mustache twitched upwards as he gave her a closed lip smile, nodding as his eyes drifted down to the picture on her desk. He swung his cane forward, taking a step closer to her.

“And who are these young gentleman?” he asked, reaching out to pick up the framed photograph. 

The grainy picture was of three men, dressed in British uniformed jackets, holding up bayoneted rifles. They all stood in a field of tall grass, behind them a small tent was peeking into the frame. The one in the middle looked different from the other two. Cleaner. With a freshly greased mustache but with the same sad eyes as the other two. It was the young man on the right that Sir Patrick looked at longest. He was the shortest of the three, with thick dark eyebrows and a burly mustache. But he was smiling, with an arm wrapped around the man in the middle. 

“My father, Sir.” Eleanor’s soft voice said. “And two of his friends during the war.” 

She stood, stepping next to him, her side brushing against his arm. She pointed to the man on the right. 

“That there is my father. Lieutenant Elliot Bell.” Her finger gently brushed across the smiling man’s chest before pointing to the middle man next to Lieutenant Bell. “That’s the Duke he befriended.” 

“You said he saved this Duke’s life.” Sir Patrick said. 

Eleanor sighed next to him, her hand covering Sir Patrick’s as she gently pulled the picture from him. The touch sent tingles up Sir Patrick’s arm, burning straight towards his chest. His jaw clenched, mouth suddenly dry. 

“He did. And in place lost his own.” She said quietly, cradling the picture near her chest. “That’s why the Duke felt so gracious in funding my education.” 

Sir Patrick nodded, eyebrows drawing together as he watched Eleanor’s face. Her lips curved in a small smile before she placed the picture frame back on her desk. 

“He died when I was very young. Just a wee little girl.” 

“War has no prejudice.” Sir Patrick soft in a low voice, hand wanting to reach out to Eleanor. 

She looked up at him, her dark eyes gleaming from the window light. She gave him a small smile, pushing an escaped tangle of hair behind her ear again.

“It takes both good and bad people. Young, old, innocent, and guilty. Its effects impact not only the soldiers but the families, the civilians-“

“The environment,” Sir Patrick cut in, “The world is being destroyed by the efforts of man, war, and industrialization.” 

Eleanor nodded, taking a step backwards towards the window before turning and gazing down at the busy street below them. Sir Patrick’s head tilted to one side, watching her hands trail along the windowsill. He swung his cane out to step beside her, his tall form towering over her. 

“ “ “ “ 

She felt Sir Patrick’s thick coat brush against her thin blouse. He was always dressed so well, buttoned in layers and cuffs. He radiated body heat next her, making her draw in closer to him. 

She could feel his eyes on her. They were always the hottest, his gaze burning a hole through her. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, drawing in a breath as they stood by the window in now silence. 

Many people walked the cold streets outside, bustling back and forth in burly coats and hats. Men with briefcases and suits tipped their hats and shuffled around newspaper stands while the women in large fur coats and big brimmed hats walked in groups and laughed as they came out of the parlor across the street. 

Everyone was hard at work as the winter holiday came quickly approaching. 

A brief thought of giving a Christmas gift to Sir Patrick crossed Eleanor’s mind. What would the tall man like? A new coat? She probably couldn’t afford one for such a well renowned man. The suit he worn now most likely would take a years’ worth of her pay checks. Maybe he would like to go to a movie, a simple gift that Eleanor always got for her brother, who thoroughly enjoyed munching on popcorn in the theatre. No, Sir Patrick was too stoic. He was an old soul, his strong voice and authoritarian personality. He probably wouldn’t enjoy sitting in a dark cramped theatre for over an hour. 

Sir Patrick was too intelligent. Too strong and handsome. Maybe he would like a new book. He had a large bookshelf in his office he frequently drew books from, Eleanor could easily sneak in and see what genre of literature he enjoyed the most. 

Eleanor looked up at Sir Patrick beside her, his eyes drifting over the street goers through the window. He seemed deep in thought. Eleanor was always very curious about the thoughts running through his handsome head. He caught her eyes, glancing down at her now with a curved smile. 

“I promise you, my Dear, that while this war has taken much it will soon come to an end.” 

“With the armistice.” Eleanor said softly, watching as Sir Patrick’s eyes flickered with a heat. 

He gave a small nod, turning his back to the window so he could lean against the windowsill, putting him at an almost level height with Eleanor. 

“We can start over after this war.” He said, hands draped over the handle of his cane placed in between his long legs. “Build a new and better world. Learn from past mistakes.” 

She watched his restless index finger tap against the top of his other hand, his drooping eyes with a faraway look in them. Her heart beat wildly inside her chest, wanting to calm his nerves that washed over her. 

Eleanor quickly reached out to place one of her hands over his on his cane handle. His head snapped towards her, eyes wide in surprise. 

“It is men like you who can help make the world better. I truly believe that Sir.” She said softly, smiling at him. His eyes bore hotly into hers for a silent second before his face broke in a true open smile, eyes crinkling as he laughed. 

His left hand pulled out from hers only to fall back on top, trapping her hand between his own. He leaned forward; Eleanor could almost fill his breath on her face. 

“You are…you are so special Ms. Bell.” He said gently, eyes soft and light, gazing at her in wonder. “I am so very glad to have your company.” His thumb softly brush against the back of her hand. 

She could feel her face and ears heating up and the eye contact became too much, causing her to bite her lip as she looked down at their hands. 

“I’m very happy to be in your company, Sir Patrick.” She whispered, batting her eyelashes towards him. 

A loud knocking against the office door caused Eleanor to jump, pulling away from Sir Patrick and quickly moving to sit in her desk chair just as the door cracked open. A young boy peaked his head in, “Sir Morgan! You’ve got an urgent message from Sir Davies, Sir!” 

Eleanor took a breath and focused on her grey typewriter, hands slightly shaking as they hovered over the keys. She checked where she left off and slowly started typing, letting the clicking calm her as Sir Patrick walked past her towards the doorway, stopping right before crossing the threshold and turning back to her. Her hands stilled, eyes watching him curiously as his mouth opened. He seemed to think better of what he was going to say and pulled his mouth shut with a small smile, giving a little wave of his hand before disappearing through the door. 

Eleanor let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding in, collapsing against the back of her chair. Her head fell left against the chair, putting her facing Sir Patrick’s now empty office, the large bookshelf peaking from around the door frame. 

Eleanor smiled.


	4. Chapter 4

On Christmas Eve the weather began to take a turn for the worst in London. Snow was never ending, coating everything on the streets. Trucks and men with shovels worked tirelessly to clear the streets. Even with the cold chill and the relentless snow, people continued to go out, work, and shop. 

Eleanor Bell walked quickly around a frosted light post. She tugged her scarf up over her red nose, shaking from the cold. 

She shifted her carrier bag to her other side to avoid hitting an elderly woman walking past her. The bag was heavy, filled with paperwork and a special wrapped package. Gloved fingers brushed against the bag, making Eleanor smile and quicken her pace.

She was careful going up the steps to the giant office building off of Hurd Street. A doorman greeted her, holding open the door as she stepped through. 

She shivered, blessing the men who had built the insulated walls around her. 

Stomping the snow off her boots she hurried up the main staircase towards Sir Patrick Morgan’s office. 

Eleanor almost felt like skipping as she got closer to their connected offices. When she reached the large oak door she found it slightly ajar, making Eleanor blink before grasping the handle. She pulled the door open, stepping into her empty office. 

The window blinds were pulled closed but the shadow of snowflakes falling was casting against the curtain. A new box of paperwork was sitting on her desk. 

Eleanor set her bag down to take off her coat, hanging it next to Sir Patrick’s overcoat on the hooks behind the door. 

So he was here at least, she thought, glancing over to his closed door. 

She picked her bag back up, moving it to her desk before pulling off her gloves. 

Emptying her bag’s contents, she held the red wrapped gift in her hands.

When would be the best time to give Sir Patrick’s his gift? Eleanor’s teeth pulled at her bottom lip. Maybe she should wait until the end of the day, that way if he didn’t like it she could leave immediately and wouldn’t have to endure the awkwardness. 

She heard his office doorknob rattle and quickly threw the gift in her desk’s drawer before turning to face Sir Patrick, but it wasn’t Sir Patrick who came out of his office. It was a beautiful young woman and an equally handsome man. The man was wearing a pilot’s jacket with a wool collar, his hand wrapped around the woman’s arm, almost pushing her out of the door. 

Eleanor had never seen such a beautiful woman. Her dark hair wrapped in a bun underneath a black hat, a thin frame and tight waist, all covered in a long dark coat. She turned to look at Eleanor, brown eyes gleaming. 

“Hello!” the woman said, giving Eleanor a near perfect smile. 

The pilot’s head shot around, starring at Eleanor with big blue eyes. Before he could say anything Sir Patrick’s towering frame appeared in the doorway, his eyes watching the other woman and pilot. 

“I am Diana,” the woman said, pulling her arm from the pilot’s gripped and moving to stand in front of Eleanor. 

Eleanor swallowed, smoothing the front of her blouse. “Eleanor Bell,” she said, holding a hand out and watching Diana ignore it. Eleanor blinked, confusion knitting her eyebrows as she pulled her hand back, fiddling with the edge of her shirt. 

She looked over Diana’s shoulder to see Sir Patrick’s gaze still drifting over the pilot and then falling onto Diana. His eyebrows were drawn together above his piercing eyes, burning bright like the time he had cut his hand. But there was something else, something in the way his mouth twitched and his head tilted to the side. 

Eleanor’s heart missed a beat. She had slowly recognized her feelings for Sir Patrick in the short two month she had been working for him. He was strong and confident, a forceful masculine aura. When he looked at her, Eleanor always felt her heart skip a beat, her face flushed. She wished for nothing else than to be wrapped in his arms, leaning against his firm body. She had even dreamed at night of being his lover. Some nights she’d awaken in a cold sweat, feeling the empty bed next to her and wishing he were with her. 

Now as she watched his eyes staring at this beautiful Diana, Eleanor clenched her jaw. She looked back over to Diana, who was looking down at the picture on Eleanor’s desk. 

Eleanor suddenly felt very raw and open, completely vulnerable to this beauty standing before her, who obviously had captured Sir Patrick’s attention. 

“Who are these men?” Diana asked, looking back up at Eleanor. 

“M-my father and his company. During the last war.” 

“The last war?” Diana gasped, turning towards the pilot with wild eyes. “Steve! You did not say there was another war.” 

The pilot, Steve, opened his mouth a few times before tugging Diana back towards him. 

“We should go Diana. Now.” He said looking back at Sir Patrick, who was now watching the pilot Steve with his intense gaze.

Diana turned to Eleanor once more, a frown on her face as she grabbed at Eleanor’s hands. 

“You must tell me all about this war another time!” she said before Steve pulled her towards the door, thanking Sir Patrick before the two disappeared down the hallway. 

Eleanor stood frozen for a moment, watching the empty doorway, willing her heart to calm down. There was a long pause of silence that allowed the air between Eleanor and Sir Patrick to be filled with uncomfortable tension. Eleanor focused on the feel of her hand-me-down blouse between her fingers, willing herself to remain calm. 

“Interesting pair.” Sir Patrick said, breaking the silence.

Eleanor’s head shot over to look at Sir Patrick. His bright eyes were now staring at her, burning a hole through her heart. 

Eleanor nodded, keeping her mouth shut as she turned back towards her desk. No messages were sitting in her tray to give to him. A pile of papers sat in her black box, ready to be retyped and signed by Sir Patrick. 

For some reason Eleanor almost felt like crying. Although she had no claim to Sir Patrick, she was not his girlfriend or lover, she still felt jealousy towards the lovely Diana. The way Sir Patrick looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes. 

A saying her mother always said drifted through Eleanor’s mind. Communication is key. You can spend all your energy worrying about what could happen or what could be, and the easiest solution is to just talk. Just ask. 

Eleanor squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself to find the courage to speak. She heard the light tap of his cane as he walked closer to her desk, close enough that she could imagine his body heat was slightly warming her. 

She opened her eyes and turned, finding her face at level height with Sir Patrick’s chest. He towered over her, head cocked down to the side, eyes burning into hers as if he was searching her brain. 

“W-who…who was that?” Eleanor asked, desperately trying to steel her voice from shaking. 

“ “ “ “ 

He was furious. 

Furious at the way she had looked at him. 

The idiotic pilot.   
His left hand gripped his cane handle so hard his knuckles turned white. What did Eleanor see in the pilot Steve Trevor? 

Sure he was younger, more handsome perhaps. He carried himself with an eager attitude and a bit more confidence than Sir Patrick. Steve Trevor didn’t walk with a cane. Steve Trevor wasn't slightly balding or had issues with poor eyesight at his age. 

No, Steve Trevor was the picture perfect young soldier wasn’t he? The idealized man that Eleanor Bell would want. Someone her father would have been proud of. 

Her father would have been proud of you too, Sir Patrick thought. You’re the God of War, the creator and destroyer. Surely a loyal soldier like Elliot Bell would have looked to Sir Patrick in awe. 

But no, Eleanor had watched Steve Trevor with gleaming eyes the second he stepped out of the office, hadn’t she?

She was truly enraptured by the pilot because now she was asking who he was. 

Who was that? She had asked, voice cracking at just the thought of Steve Trevor. 

Sir Patrick’s lip curled in an almost snarl. His heart beating twice as fast, blooding rushing to his head. He starred down at Eleanor, looking over her beautiful face, counting the freckles that littered the bridge of her nose to calm himself back down. 

“That, my Dear, was Steve Trevor.” He said with venom on his tongue, leaning towards the side and stepping closer to the window. Being in her presence was almost maddening. 

He wanted to grab her and shake her, tell her that he was the only one for her. Tell her that Steve Trevor was just another idiotic mortal looking for the next warm body if she let him. 

Sir Patrick’s fingers pulled back the window curtain, trailing over the cold glass. He could easily shatter it just like the whiskey glass the day they had met. But her voice pulled him back,

“No, no. Who was she? The lady…Diana? How-how do you know her?” 

Sir Patrick’s head snapped back towards Eleanor. He searched her eyes, her face, trying to read what emotion he could from her. She was nervous yes, but something else. A fire in her eyes, a saddened brow. A quick inhale and a clenching off her hand into a fist. 

Eleanor Bell was jealous. 

“ “ “ “ 

She felt like she was burning up inside this stuffy office. She wanted to march over to him and throw open the window just so she could feel like she could breathe again. 

He stood there, silent and mocking as she had asked who the pretty woman was. Eleanor felt her heart clench, feeling suddenly angry. 

She felt embarrassed above all else. Embarrassed that she even thought that the wonderful Sir Patrick would be interested in a silly girl like herself. 

Eleanor shifted awkwardly on her feet, leaning against her desk, hands gripping at the drawer handles before her hands hurt from squeezing so hard. She pulled her hands away, huffed and crossed her arms across her chest instead. 

“Diana Prince.” Sir Patrick said lowly, stepping away from the window back towards Eleanor. “She is…Steve Trevor’s partner.” 

Eleanor swallowed, a pressure lifting off of her shoulders. “Partner?” She asked, grimacing as her voice cracked. She quickly cleared her throat in hopes to cover it.

Sir Patrick squinted at her, taking the final step to stand right in front of her. He cocked his head to the side, staring down at her with gleaming eyes. 

“She is also my…relative. My sister, actually.” He said, mustache twitching. 

Eleanor blinked, hands gripping at her upper arms to keep her from zoning out. 

“She’s your sister?” She asked, watching Sir Patrick’s mustache twitch. 

He nodded, exhaling through his nose and he twisted his cane around in his hand. 

“Half-sister. Same father.” He said gruffly. “I knew of her existence but had no idea our paths would cross now.”

“With everything happening with the War.” Eleanor offered, slightly breathless with Sir Patrick being so close. 

He seemed to register what Eleanor had said and nodded, exhaling through his nose again and letting his eyes drift down Eleanor towards her desk drawer. 

“What’s this?” He said, stepping even closer so that Eleanor could smell his strong cologne. He reached behind her and it took Eleanor a second to realize he had pulled out the red wrapped package. She must have pulled the drawer open. 

Eleanor’s eyes were huge as she quickly tried to grab at the gift, her hands falling on top of Sir Patrick’s. 

“Please don’t!” She cried, trying to pull the gift away but Sir Patrick held on tightly. 

“But it says right here ‘to Sir Patrick’,” he said with a lopsided smile, tugging the gift out of Eleanor’s hands. 

She sighed heavily, heart nearly beating out of her chest. 

“May I?” Sir Patrick asked, already hooking his cane onto the back of her desk chair, hand raised to tear the taped edge open. 

Eleanor swallowed, giving a quick prayer to God before nodding. 

Sir Patrick grinned, tearing the package’s edge open and ripping it across the square gift. He stared down at the book in his hands silently, mouth slightly agape. 

“Happy early Christmas.” Eleanor said quietly, hands twisting around each other in her nervousness. 

“ “ “ “ 

She had gotten him a present. He wanted to grab her and pull her into him the second he had seen his name scrawled across the red paper. 

“To Sir Patrick, from Ellie”. 

Ellie. 

It sounded sweet in his brain and he desperately wanted to taste the nickname on his tongue, but he willed himself to remain silent instead as he opened the gift. 

When the wrapping was out of the way he found a leather bound book in his hand. A book dedicated to Greek Mythology and a small book behind it about Astrology. 

She had thought dearly enough of him to buy him something for Christmas, a disillusioned human holiday to celebrate a religion that ended up with family just spending money on material goods. 

But she had thought of him and that thought made Sir Patrick’s heart beat a bit faster. 

He looked away from the books to her face. She was nervously biting her lip again, eyes watching his face for the appropriate reaction. 

He should say thank you, he thought. He should thank her and perhaps buy her a present in return later. That would be an appropriate reaction. In reality all Sir Patrick wanted to do was hold her. To wrap his arms around her small frame and cradle her against his chest. He wanted to feel her heart beat against his and press her nose against her hair. He wanted to protect her and keep her safe. He wanted to hide her away from the Steve Trevor’s that threatened his relationship with his soul mate. 

He hands tightened around the books to keep himself from pulling her to him. 

“Thank you.” He said genuinely, leaning slightly forwards as he looked directly into her big eyes. 

A moment passed before her lips turned before breaking into a full smile. She let out a quick breath before biting her lip, eyes glancing down at his lips for a brief second. 

He was fighting a losing battle. He wanted her like he had never wanted any other. 

She was so close, all he had to do was reach out. He let his right hand let go of the books, slowly reaching out grip onto Eleanor’s arm, fingers brushing against her cotton shirt.

Just as his large hand started to hold on a piercing ring broke them apart. 

Eleanor jumped, pulling away to grab at the rotary phone sitting on the desk. 

“Sir Morgan’s office, Eleanor speaking, how may I help you?” She said breathlessly, glancing to the side to watch him. 

He gritted his teeth, grabbing his cane from the chair and taking a step back towards his own office. With Eleanor being a widen distance he could allow himself to breath properly, regaining some control over his body. 

“Yes. Yes thank you, I will let him know. Good-bye.” The clicking on the phone against the receiver brought Sir Patrick’s eyes back onto Eleanor. 

Her cheeks flushed pink as she stared at him. 

“Mr. Henry said another donor wished to speak with you later today after lunch time.” She swallowed, reaching up to tuck a lose strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Right.” He said, taking a deep breath. “Well set him up on my schedule and I’ll get to him when I can.” 

She nodded, still standing awkwardly next to her chair. 

He tilted his head, captivated by the way the bright snow from the window reflected light against the side of her face, lighting up her eyes. 

“When the weather is warmer I could show you,” he said. 

She blink up at him with a confused expression. He smiled, holding up the astrology book. 

“Show you the constellations.” He finished, watching her smile again, cheeks heating up once again. “You know me very well. These are some of my favorite subjects.” 

Eleanor laughed, hands smooth her skirt out as she bit her lip. 

“I just wanted to get you something nice. That you’d enjoy. I know you use your bookshelf often and…” she trailed off, eyes falling towards the floor as she shrugged her shoulders. 

“These are very nice. You….are very nice.” He said before clearing his throat. “I better get back to work.” He continued, taking another step away from her and back towards the safety of his own office. 

“Me too.” She smiled, finally sitting down at her desk but still facing him. 

He opened his mouth as to say something but changed his mind, giving her a closed mouth smile before turning away to step through the door frame. His hand touched the handle and just as he was about to shut the door between them he turned to look at her one last time, watching her pick through the box of paper work, the pesky strand of hair falling back out of place. 

“Thank you,” He said again, causing her head to whip over to look at him. “Thank you for the books…Ellie.” He finished, smiling as her face turned a bright red and she quickly turned back to the typewriter, hands fluttering over the keys.

He laughed when the door clicked shut behind him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update took longer, it's lengthier than the other chapters though! I really hope you enjoy the story!

Eleanor Bell stood staring at the crisp white piece of paper that was tacked to the board outside the woman’s break room. She hadn’t noticed it before as she had walked into the lounge. She could have easily and happily left at the end of the day without a clue anything was happening. It had already been an exciting enough day after giving Sir Patrick his gift, did she really need go to the annual office Christmas Eve Party? She probably could have gotten away with it too until old Edith swept out of the break room like a hawk and came straight towards Eleanor.

Eleanor tried to subtly avoid eye contact and quickly walk down the hallway back towards her office. Despite her old age Edith somehow caught up to Eleanor, falling into steps beside her, asking if she was going to the annual Christmas Eve Party. 

“I don’t know Edith,” Eleanor said with a sigh. “My mother doesn’t like me out so late.” 

“Oh pish posh!” Edith cried, latching onto Eleanor’s arm, jumbling the folders Eleanor was holding. “You’re young and fresh! You need a little fun.” 

Eleanor cringed, tugging Edith forward as they rounded the hallway corner. 

“I don’t know how to dance.” Eleanor tried again, hoping her excuses would work. 

“That’s fine! Just find yourself a lad who can do the dances for both of you!” 

Eleanor rolled her eyes as they reached the door to Sir Patrick’s office. She turned to face Edith, pulling her arm free to cradle the binders against her chest. 

“I’m just not going Edith. And that’s final-“ Eleanor was cut off as the door to the office opened. 

Sir Patrick stepped out backwards and turned, jumping slightly when he found himself face to face with Eleanor and Edith. His mustache twitched up in a smile as his eyes met Eleanor’s. 

“Ladies,” he greeted, leaning against his cane. “Might I ask what discussion has gotten my secretary so red in the face?” 

Eleanor’s felt a deep blush spread across her cheeks, quickly avoiding her gaze from Sir Patrick. 

“Sir Patrick!” Edith cried, now jumping at the man. “You’re going to the Christmas Eve Party aren’t you?” she asked, eyelashes batting up at him. 

He seemed to reflect on her words, eyes glancing over at Eleanor before back at the wrinkled woman. 

“I suppose it would be opportune of me to celebrate with other patrons.” 

Edith clapped her hands in delight, smiling with slightly yellow teeth at Sir Patrick. He seemed to grimace a smile back before turning his eyes back to Eleanor. 

His head cocked to the side as he asked her “You’ll be there I hope?” 

Eleanor’s eyes widened. “Of course I will!” She said quickly, hugging the folders closer to her chest. 

“But you just-“ Edith turned to her, now confused. 

“The party will be great for morale and I can’t wait to go.” Eleanor said, covering up the last of Edith’s sentence as one of Sir Patrick’s eyebrows raised in amusement. He nodded, smiling softly at her as he said goodbye to Edith and walked down the hallway. 

The two women stood silently for a second before Edith began to open her mouth. 

“Don’t say anything.” Eleanor whispered fiercely, turning to look at the Edith who had a wicked smile on her face. Edith patted Eleanor on the cheek twice. 

“Knock him dead, Darling.” She said with a smug grin before rushing off after her older friend Betty. 

“ “ “ “ 

There were two reasons he agreed to come to the party. Both were because of Eleanor. 

The first was that he desperately wanted to be around her. Constantly. The urge nagged him night and day, eating away at him whenever he was without her company for more than an hour. He certainly made enough excuses to find her company, always peaking in on her typing at her desk. ‘Just grabbing more paper’, ‘I think my clock is slow, do you know the time?’, ‘just making sure you’ve had lunch’ were his go to excuses. 

She always smiled back at him, or blushed, or swatted at his arm if he was close enough. It was those moments that he enjoyed the most. 

And it was because of those moments that he would gladly make a fool of himself at the annual Christmas Eve Party. 

Which led him to his second reason to going. To test Eleanor. Sir Patrick wanted to know so badly if she was like every other person he had cared for, a betrayer. He wanted to watch her in a situation and she just who she would choose. 

This experiment led him to where he was now. Nearly everyone in the office was crammed throughout the lobby of the building, closed to the public after dark. Chairs and tables had been scattered around the large room for people to sit and mingle. A group of younger interns and secretaries were gathered together dancing next to a large record player in the middle of the room. 

He and Eleanor had parted at the end of the work day like every other day before. Eleanor had smiled at him in his doorway, promising that she’d meet up with him later at the party. 

He checked his watch and it was just turning 11. Cramp in his tiny chair in the corner he watched as Edith and Eleanor ordered drinks at reception desk turned makeshift bar across the room. She was stunning, dressed in a slimming black dress and being dragged towards a table across the room by old Edith. 

Sir Patrick watched her from the corner of his eye, appreciating the dark corner he had selected to sit in. Her dark brown hair had been slightly curled, falling on her shoulders instead of being tied back like she had during the day. His eyes traveled down her curved hips and down her legs, mouth opening and closing in hunger. 

His corporal self had been whispering to her all night trying to get her to make a move on someone. She continuously swerved his distractions away much to his surprise. She seemed content in just sitting instead of dancing the night away with any number of handsome young men at the party that he had suggested. 

He was running short on patience. A part of him was yelling for him to give up and go over to Eleanor to take her in his arms. 

He forced his gaze away from her, trying to locate someone in a last chance experiment. 

Sir Patrick looked around the room, eyes combing over every suitable man he saw. It had to be someone reserved like herself, maybe a bit shorter to match her height. 

He silently watched his potential matches, eyes constantly drifting through the crowd until he spotted a younger boy. He was shorter than Sir Patrick, but still broad in the shoulders. Sir Patrick remembered overhearing the boy talk about dodging the war draft due to his wealthy father. A perfect chance to see if Eleanor was interested in wealth over love. 

Sir Patrick blinked slowly, feeling his corporal self separate from his body. He drifted across the dance floor, eyeing the younger man before approaching Eleanor. He could admire her up closer now, dark eyes shimmering as she accepted a drink from Edith, taking a tiny sip before setting the glass back down. She glanced around the room, eyes searching for something. Now was the time to act. 

Sir Patrick leaned down close to her ear, drawing in a quick breath before whispering, “The man by the bar in the blue suit is quite handsome, isn’t he?” 

He watched Eleanor’s eyes flicker over towards the young man. Her eyebrows drew together, watching the young intern by the bar. 

“ “ “ “ 

She had goosebumps on her arms and a chill traveling down her spine. She crossed her arms over her chest to try and huddle her warmth. She felt her mind zoning out, drifting over towards the bar. A prickling in her ear made her shiver, something inside her head drawing her attention towards the men sitting at the bar. One boy stood out. 

A younger man she had seen in passing in the hallways often enough. He was taller than she was, with slicked back blonde hair and a wide chest and an even wider stomach. The young man was arguing with the older man next to him and absentmindedly waved a small finger sandwich around, slopping sauce on his tie. He huffed, tossing the food down to grab a napkin, turning and glancing over towards Eleanor.

“You want him don’t you?” The voice whispered low in Eleanor’s head. “He’s handsome and glancing this way, he must want you too. Go talk to him.” 

Chills crawled up Eleanor’s spine at the unusual prickling in her head nagged at her. She wasn’t even interested in this boy. She squinted her eyes as she tried to place him. He was dabbing at his snowflake tie with a napkin, oblivious to the sauce that was on his own face. Eleanor’s eyebrows shot up as she remember where she had seen him. His name was Travis and he was an intern with Sir Frederick, and always chasing after Martha, the secretary for the neighboring patron Major Roberts. 

Eleanor scoffed, turning back to her drink with a smile. She had caught the two of them flirting one time in a secluded corridor that branched off from the bathrooms. Scanning the room again, Eleanor spied Martha off in the corner, watching Travis with puppy dog eyes. They were clearly in some sort of relationship, Eleanor thought. Why would she even think of Travis that way? He was cute sure, with a square jaw and bright blue eyes, but Eleanor was only interested in one pair of blue eyes that belonged to someone else.

Eleanor’s eyes drifted over to the darkest corner of the party. 

Sir Patrick was sitting in a far off table alone, one hand resting on his cane’s handle while the other was curled around his whiskey glass. He was stiff and lifelessly still, eyes staring off into space with a glazed over look. Eleanor’s eyes wandered across his broad chest, down the three piece suit’s buttons towards his lap, his long legs spread out comfortably in his small chair. She swallowed, wanting nothing more than to be sitting on his lap than in her scratchy chair with chatty Edith next to her. 

“I want you”, she thought to him before blinking quickly when his head snapped towards her, eyes burning directly into hers. 

A blush heated her face up as she darted her gaze away from him, hiding her red cheeks. 

Edith remained talking, rambling on about how Judy from the treasury got a new haircut. 

Eleanor was zoned out, watching her drink when the faint tap of a cane caused her to look up in fright. 

Sir Patrick stood next to her, blue eyes softening when they met hers. 

“Do you mind?” he asked, gesturing towards the empty seat next to her. She nodded vigorously, swallowing when he lowered his large frame into the small chair. It was almost comical, making Eleanor smile and shake her head. 

“What’s so funny?” He asked, eyebrows drawn together but a smirk on his face. 

“Nothing,” she said smiling at him, admiring his slicked back hair as he leaned forward. 

His mustache twitched upwards as he smiled back. He truly was handsome, Eleanor thought, eyes drifting down the clean black suit he wore. Always so proper, layered and mysterious. His sweet eyes blinked and brought her attention back to his face. In that brief second he was so close she could easily reach out and brush her cheek against his or feel the prickle of his mustache against her lips. She watched his tongue dart out, brushing against his bottom lip. She was completely mesmerized watching his pointed lips she almost didn’t realize he was speaking to her. 

“-get you anything?” he asked. “Another drink, perhaps?” His eyes flickered over towards the almost empty glass of gin in front of her. 

“N-no! No, thank you.” Eleanor stuttered, feeling suddenly hot around the collar. “If I have any more I won’t be able to walk home!” she joked, pulling a strand of hair behind her ear. 

“Well I certainly need another drink!” Edith cried, interrupting Eleanor and Sir Patrick as she stood. With a grin at Eleanor, the older lady sauntered off back to the bar, leaving the pair alone at the table.

Sir Patrick inhaled through his nose, leaning back in his chair and picking up his glass of whiskey. Eleanor watched him take a sip before setting it back on the table, staring into the amber liquid with the glazed over look once more. 

“ “ “ “ 

He was shocked. She had spoken to him through his mind meld. 

He was sitting in the corner listening to her mind when she had somehow linked into his connection and her own thoughts invaded his mind.

“I want you” she had thought. 

Sir Patrick was beyond surprised to hear her voice come through clearly in his head. His heart felt like it was being squeezed when he looked over to see her watching him. She had looked away with flushed cheeks that stirred Sir Patrick’s body. He felt possessive of the young beauty. 

His soul mate. 

Sir Patrick was fighting a losing battle. He stared down at his whiskey with a frown. 

He wanted her. Needed her. 

But he wanted to make sure that she truly wanted him back. If he were to scare or push her in any way she might never feel comfortable in his presence. Having been betrayed by those he thought himself closest to he wanted absolutely loyalty, even in his soul mate. 

That thought was the best justification he could come up with his last experiment. 

While his body remained sitting next to Eleanor, his corporal self drifted around party goers, looking for the best young man to prey on. 

His victim was Harry Townsend, one of the younger patrons. A handsome man by most standards, curled blonde hair and deep brown eyes. He was thin and muscular, constantly jabbering about his long morning runs to the men in the break rooms. Harry was also a bragger about the number of women he kept. If anyone could persuade Eleanor to leave Sir Patrick’s side, it must be Harry. 

Harry was talking with two women from the office when a prickling feeling brushed along his neck, goosebumps covering his arms. 

“The girl over in the corner,” a calming voice said, drawing Harry’s attention away from the two ladies towards Eleanor. “She’s beautiful isn’t she?” 

Harry swallowed, eyes darkening as Eleanor took a sip of her drink, licking her lips. 

“Even more beautiful on your bed. Go get her.” The voice commanded, leaving Harry swallowing hard before leaving the two ladies quite upset and confused behind him. 

“ “ “ “ 

He must be lost in thought, Eleanor said to herself, watching Sir Patrick gaze at his drink. 

She was just about to reach out to touch his arm when a tall shadow appeared over her. She looked up to see Harry Townsend standing above her, eyes dark and warm. 

“Eleanor.” He said in a sweet Liverpool accent. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

Eleanor blinked, she had barely held a conversation with Harry before tonight and wondered why he had suddenly taken an interested in her. 

“Well…here I am.” She laughed nervously, glancing over to see Sir Patrick now visually breathing again and looking at his drink with a furrowed brow. 

“Here you are.” Harry breathed, grabbing at Eleanor’s hand and bringing it up to his mouth. “And looking quite ravishing I must say.” He pressed a kiss on the back of her hand, making Eleanor’s face burn red with embarrassment. 

She gently tried to pull her hand from Harry’s grasp, biting her lip. She could see Sir Patrick’s hand tighten on his cane handle, knuckles tense. 

Harry kept a tight hold of her hand. “Come dance with me.” He said lowly, eyes sparkling at he leaned down towards Eleanor’s ear. “We’ll make it a night to remember.” 

Eleanor jerked in her chair, snatching her hand out of Harry’s grasp. She felt confused and embarrassed to be sitting next to Sir Patrick while this was happening. 

She had been asked out a few times before during school but nothing had ever come from the relationships. Most of the boys had been too silly or immature, making her cross when they whined that she didn’t give them enough attention or affection. Eleanor had stood her ground, saying her focus was on school and her family, which left the boys angry and left her single. 

She hadn’t thought much on love during the last few years. But Eleanor knew what she wanted. An undying love that would last her whole lifetime. She wanted true love, companionship first and loyalty foremost. She didn’t want some young boy who was only looking for a skirt to chase. She wanted a man who knew where his life was going and wanted Eleanor to be a part of it too. She wanted someone to come home to and someone to support her decision to work. 

Harry Townsend was not that man. 

For the first time Eleanor was glad she had been forced to Edith’s gossip, because Edith had revealed all about Harry’s romantic conquest throughout the office. 

She was almost angry at the fact the man had come over to beg her away in the first place. With a glance to her side at Sir Patrick, who was still sitting with a steely gaze, she felt a burning in her stomach at him as well. 

He just sat there while Eleanor was being harassed by this womanizer. Eleanor scoffed at her fantasy of Sir Patrick standing up for her. She wanted him to turn around and knock some sense into Harry, or at least send him away. 

“Fight for me!” she thought at Sir Patrick, looking back up at Harry with wild eyes. 

“I-I’m sorry Harry but I’m really not in-interested!” she stuttered, holding her kissed hand to her chest like it was injured. 

Now Harry scoffed, eyes turning angry as he looked down at Eleanor. 

“You’re not interested? Do you realize what I’m offering you?” He boasted, stomping his foot like a child. “I’m offering you a night to be treated like a princess. And all you want to do is sit here with-with this-this…old geezer?” He said, waving his hand towards Sir Patrick. 

Fury shot through Eleanor like a ripple up her spine. She quickly stood up, knocking her chair back a bit. 

“Sir Patrick is not an old geezer.” She hissed, standing up to her full height as she rounded on Harry. “He is a gentleman and better than you will ever be.” Her finger shot out and jabbed at Harry’s chest. “How dare you! You-you-“ Eleanor stuttered from the anger that pulsed through her. 

A hand wrapped around her wrist and before she could jerk out of the hold she was pulled sideways, bumping into the firm chest of Sir Patrick. His other arm wrapped around her shoulder, drawing her closer into him. 

Eleanor looked up to watch his face, blue eyes darkening, teeth barred in a snarl towards Harry. Her heart beat faster watching a few locks of hair fall out of place across his forehead, making him look wild in his protective stance. 

“Leave. Now.” He growled at Harry, who looked frightened of the older man and scampered away without another word. 

Eleanor let out a shaky breath, knees feeling slightly weak. She closed her eyes as she leaned against Sir Patrick’s warm body, her hand grasping at his overcoat without thinking. She buried her face into his chest, hearing the light thump of his heart beat through his layered shirts. 

“I’ve got you.” His warm voice washed over her. He drew the hand holding her wrist into his chest, his long fingers brushing upwards from her wrist to curl around her smaller fingers. She imagined they almost looked like they were dancing.

Eleanor was in awe of the man before her. He was leaning down, not even at full height, and still towered over her. She fit easily against his broad chest, head tucked neatly under his chin. His long arm wrapped around her back kept her close, hand splayed out across her shoulder. 

She had dreamed this a hundred times, wishing it to be true every time she woke. 

It was real now. He was really holding her. She felt his head shift, cheek brushing against the side of her head, his mustache tickling her ear. 

“Thank you.” He whispered, voice low and dark, sending tingles down Eleanor’s spine. 

“ “ “ “ 

He could have held her all evening. 

She was so small in his arms. He could easily crush her with a single hug but yet he cradled her to his chest like she was fine china. 

His little spit fire. The thought made him grin against her hair. 

She had stood up against his last attempt at dissuading her. So passionate in her stance and heat in her voice. He had fought back to urge to kiss her then and there. 

Now he was certain though. Nothing would stand between him and Eleanor Bell. He would fight for her till his dying breath. 

Holding her this close was intoxicating. The smell of vanilla shampoo and the hint of sweetness in her perfume drove him crazy. Her short frame fit in his embrace like they were missing puzzle pieces. She was holding onto his jacket in a tight fist, making his neck feel hot with desire. Her other hand was shaking slightly in his, clutched close to his chest. 

His lips brushed over the top of her ear as he whispered again to her, “Can I walk you home?” 

He believed he could feel her heart beating against his chest before she shifted away to look up at him. The arm he had wrapped around her back fell, brushing down from her shoulder to her forearm, pulling her hand loose from his jacket so that he now holding both of her hands in his. 

Her beautiful eyes were gleaming, the many freckles peppering her nose and cheeks were almost hidden by her adorable blush. She was incredibly nervous and the thought made his heart miss a beat. 

She remained quiet as she nodded, taking another small step away from him. He watched her eyes glance over at his cane hooked on the arm of his chair and before she could reach away to grab it he pulled her hands up to his mouth. He barely pressed his lips against her knuckles, just holding her hand against his lips while watching her eyes. 

Eleanor swallowed, the blush on her cheeks turning even redder. 

After lowering her hands back down, Sir Patrick grabbed his cane and offered his free arm to her. Eleanor managed a smile, wrapping both of her arms around his one as they walked across the room, passing a terrified yet irritated Harry Townsend and a grinning Edith. 

“ “ “ “ 

It was closer to midnight when they finally reached Eleanor’s house. Snow had begun to fall, blanketing the street in white powder. The street was empty at this time of night, everyone in their beds waiting for Santa Claus to visit them. They walked past small houses in various colors, close together and connected to each other. The street lamps cast shadows over the cobbled sidewalk and steps to each house. 

They walked slowly, Sir Patrick having to match Eleanor’s shorter stride. At one point he had taken off his jacket to drape over her chilly shoulders, making her blush a pretty pink.

Eleanor was leaning into his warm body, arms still wrapped around his elbow. He would lean down to speak to her, trying to make jokes to get her to laugh. He delighted in watching her smile, giggle, or smack his arm. Having her this close was so refreshing. He had been waiting for this moment for so long. 

“This is me.” She said softly, pulling him over towards a set of stairs that lead to a small grey house. It had a large blue door and matching blue shutters covering a window on the second floor. Sir Patrick followed Eleanor up the steps to the front door, trying to slow down to make the moment last longer. 

He felt his chest tighten when she loosened her arms around his and drew away. He quickly caught her left hand in his right, keeping her close to him still. 

She seemed to become shy, eyes watching their clasped hands with a smile. Snowflakes caught in her dark curls and eyelashes. She looked beautiful with the dim streetlight bouncing off her hair and face. He couldn’t go another second without letting her know. 

“I know it’s a tad late in saying this but you look quite lovely.” He said, his thumb brushing against the back of her hand. 

“Thank you.” Eleanor said, eyes gleaming up at him as she smiled. “And thank you for walking me home.” She said, taking a tiny step closer to him. 

Sir Patrick smirked, cocking his head to the side as he bent forward. His eyes drifted across her face, across the pattern of freckles that littered her nose, her pink cheeks, and her sweet lips. He wanted to kiss her, mark her as his. 

“What are you doing tomorrow?” She said, gently squeezing his hand. 

Sir Patrick blinked, mind brought back to attention. Before he could open his mouth to respond Eleanor spoke again. 

“You should come for Christmas dinner.” She said quickly, rocking on the heels of her feet. “I-if you’re free of course, I know you’re incredible busy-“

Raising her hand up to his lips he pressed a light kiss against her knuckles to silence her. 

“I would love to.” He said, watching her face light up and her blush deepen. 

“G-great! That’s great!” Eleanor stuttered, squeezing his hand once more before pulling away and taking a step back towards the door. 

“I-I’ll see you tomorrow then.” She said, her dark eyes twinkling in the dim light. 

Sir Patrick nodded, watching with a tilted head as Eleanor fumbled to unlock the front door before softly creaking it open. 

“Goodnight Sir Patrick.” She gently said, looking back with a smile before slipping inside the dark house. 

Sir Patrick stood watching the door close behind her with a lopsided grin. He would see her tomorrow. A plan began forming in his mind of how to exactly tell Eleanor his feelings. 

Feelings. Something he was never quite the best of showing, at least the romantic kind of feelings. Of course he had taken lovers before but he had never imagined the kind of power his soul mate would have over him. He needed her like he needed air. And tomorrow he would tell her. 

These thoughts possessed his mind as he slowly made his way down the small stairs back onto the cobbled street. Surely she would want to be with him. The blushing, the flirting, the defending him. She had been jealous of Diana. Diana. The thought of the young woman made the hair on the back of his neck stand up. 

His hand gripped his cane harder as he began walking away from the little house. 

He was halfway down the street lost in thought when the blue front door swung open, Eleanor rushing out, flying down the steps with his jacket in her hand.

“Sir Patrick!” She cried running towards him through the light snow.

He barely had time to turn around before his arms were filled with Eleanor’s small frame. He let out a soft grunt at the force of her hug. She flung her arms up to wrap around his tall neck, dragging his head down to meet hers. 

He almost didn’t register that her lips were pressed against his. 

She was kissing him. 

Sir Patrick’s eyes widened as she quickly pulled away, a nervous grin across her red face. 

“Y-you forgot your…jacket.” She whispered, clutching the black overcoat towards her chest before gently extending it out to him. 

“ “ “ “ 

He just stood there. Eyes wide and mouth slightly open, staring at the jacket. 

Eleanor was almost tempted to toss it at him and run. What a fool she had made of herself kissing him. Actually her mouth had landed at the corner of his in her rush to get to him. She didn’t have a lot of experience in kissing and now she had messed everything up. 

Sir Patrick blinked and shook his head as if waking up. His blue eyes turned dark and gleaming as he looked at her, head tilting down and leaning forward. His hand reached out to grab his coat from her. His fingers wrapped around hers, tugging her back into his chest and capturing her lips with his.

Eleanor let out a tiny noise of surprise as Sir Patrick held her close to him, lips simply pressed against hers. His mustache tickled her nose, making her smile into the kiss. She melted into his touch, her other hand moving up to rest against his chest. He was incredibly warm, heating her up in the chilly night air. 

When he pulled away from her he had the cutest lopsided smile on his face, straight white teeth peeking out from behind his mustache. She couldn’t help but smile back, biting at her bottom lip to keep from wrapping her arms around him again.

Sir Patrick exhaled, looking down at his coat and them back up at Eleanor. 

“Thank you.” He said in a low voice, sending shivers down Eleanor’s spine. “Now go inside before you catch a cold.”

“S-see you tomorrow.” she replied grinning, letting go of the coat and taking a step backwards. 

He nodded, watching her retreat back up the steps to her front door. 

“Goodnight Ellie.” He called out, smile widening as the girl on the porch blushed a deep red and gave him a tiny wave before closing the door behind her. 

The street remained silent as Sir Patrick watched a light turn on in the upstairs window. The snow was falling faster now. It would definitely be a white Christmas. 

With one last smile he turned and made his way back towards the office, heart beating wildly. 

Tomorrow couldn’t come fast enough.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter will be split into two parts. The second part is coming soon, but I felt bad for not giving you guys a bit more story when I promised I'd update last Sunday. I'm sorry! Getting ready to go back to college is time consuming! More soon, enjoy!

“Ellie!” a voice screamed as a squirming weight fell on top of her. 

Eleanor grunted under her blanket and pushed at her little brother, knocking George off to the side. Pulling the blanket back up over her face, she burrowed deeper in the warm bed. 

“Ellie, Santa Claus came!” George cried, bouncing around his sleepy sister. 

“George, what time is it?” She grumbled, shifting her head to bury her face into the pillow. 

The 10 year old boy grabbed at her shoulder, bouncing up and down on his knees as her shook her. “Please Ellie, Mum said to wait until at least 7 and its 7:04 so please come down stairs!” 

George scrambled around on the bed, falling over Eleanor while chanting “please” over and over, smothering his face into her shoulder. 

With another grunt Eleanor tossed George off her back and threw the covers off her, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She stood up and shuffled over to the window, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Pulling the curtain to the side, she peered out the window. The sun was just beginning to peek out from behind the tops of the houses across the street. Snow fell gently, covering the house tops and streets below.

“Ellie!” George cried, crawling out from underneath her blanket, his brown hair sticking up wildly. 

Eleanor laughed, throwing her robe on over her pajamas and following the young boy out of her room. 

Their mother was standing in front of the stove scrambling eggs, humming along to the small radio playing Bing Crosby in the window sill. 

Eleanor walked over to press a light kiss against her mother’s cheek before popping the toast into the toaster. With her paycheck coming from her secretary job Eleanor was able to help her family afford a real Christmas meal. A big juicy ham had been bought for dinner along with the rationed amount of canned vegetables and bread. Dinner would be delicious, Eleanor thought, taking out plates from the overhead cabinet. 

“Mum! Ellie!” George hollered from the living room before rushing into the kitchen in his striped pajamas, sliding on the tile floor in his socks.

“Be careful Georgie!” Eleanor’s mother laughed, scrapping the eggs onto the three plates. “Presents after breakfast, you know that.” 

“Mum!” George moaned, hopping around the older woman with his bottom lip stuck out. 

Eleanor caught the toast as it popped out of the toaster, and brought it along with the jam over to the small table. 

“Eat your toast and then we’ll open up the gifts.” 

George made a whining noise as he plopped down in a chair, grabbing at the jam and toast. His disgruntled attitude didn’t last long. 

“There’s more gifts under the tree than last year!” He said with a big smile, showing off a small gap from a recently lost tooth. 

Eleanor’s mother chuckled, “You must have been a good boy this year.” 

“I’m always a good boy!” 

Now Eleanor laughed. “What about when you pushed your buddy Fred off his bike last month?” Eleanor said, earning her a kick under the table from George. 

“Eat now.” Their mother said shaking a playful finger. “Gifts later.” 

“ “ “ “ 

The rest of the morning was spent in the living room, huddled around the toasty fireplace. Even with Eleanor’s new income they could only afford a smaller tree this year, propped up in the corner of the room near the stairs. It was decorated with mostly handmade ornaments from Eleanor and George. Cut out hand prints from when Eleanor was 4, and a picture of George when he was born had been glued to a colorful orb, and many other creative knick-knacks.

George sat closest to the tree, handing Eleanor and their mother their gifts before diving into his, tossing shredded gift wrap around himself. 

“Look Ellie!” He cried happily, holding up a boxed train set. “It had three different engines!” 

Eleanor smiled, meeting her mother’s eyes. Her mother had been grateful for Eleanor’s employment. The family had been barely getting by before she got her secretary job with Sir Patrick. Many families had been effected by the war, but with a steady income from Eleanor’s job the family could afford more common luxuries. 

“We’ll put it together later today, how about that?” Eleanor said, taking a sip of her hot tea. 

Nothing felt better than providing for her family. With extra money in her pocket she was able to splurge a bit more for her mother and little brother. She had started small with a new winter coat for George. She found it in a local shop, worn and used but still holding together. Eleanor’s mother had stitched all the frayed holes and it became good as new, keeping the young boy warm when he was out running through the snowy streets. 

George crawled onto the couch, snuggling between Eleanor and their mother as he passed Eleanor’s gift over to her. 

Eleanor grinned over George’s head at her mother before tearing the paper off the side to reveal a long rectangular box. Lifting the lid, Eleanor gasped as she saw a set of paint brushes with a tiny tag saying ‘From Georgie’ tied to the biggest brush. 

“Oh George!” Eleanor cried, setting the box down on her lap to wrap her arms around the little boy. “Thank you.” 

“You’ll paint me something right?” He replied, smiling up at her when she let go. 

Eleanor nodded her head, wrapping the brushes back up and setting them on the side table.

“Mum, now it’s your turn.” George said, squirming around in Eleanor’s embrace. 

Their mother smiled, eyes twinkling as she carefully pulled the paper off of the small box in her lap. “I wonder what it could be.” She said, gently lifting the lid. 

Inside was a beautiful new hair comb, a decorative filigree spiral with fake white jewels at the top of the pronged comb. Eleanor had thought of it as a pretty way to hold up her mother’s hair while she worked. She was a practical woman if nothing else, never worrying about material goods. Her mother had come from a poor background, growing up as a farmer’s daughter of the coast of Ireland. She had worked her whole life to provide for her family, both her own parents and then when she got married to Eleanor’s father. 

Watching her mother stare at the comb in her lap felt like a nail biting eternity. But finally her mother looked up, her brimming with tears and eyes crinkled with a smile. 

“Thank you, Sweetheart.” She whispered, reaching over to pull Eleanor into a tight hug. Eleanor blinked back her own tears, smiling when George wiggled uncomfortably between the ladies. 

A soft knock on the door interrupted their hug. George scrambled off the couch and rushed away yelling “I’ll get it!” 

“ “ “ “ 

It took every fiber in his being to arrive when he did. He had barely slept that night and this morning he had spent much longer than normal getting dressed, making sure he looked the absolute best he could. The feeling of nervousness was not one he was too familiar with, leaving him pacing his front hallway for half an hour in anticipation. She had told him to come after lunch, which didn’t give him an exact hour and that was his only excuse for arriving at 2PM. 

In a vain attempt to woo her, Sir Patrick had worn one of his better suits that she had once complimented, saying he looked ‘quite dashing’ the day he had worn it. He had brushed his hair back with a wet comb even put a bit of grease in his mustache to keep the edges curled just so. 

His black overcoat was wrapped around him, catching the falling snow that drifted around him on the porch. He tapped his foot against the snow covered doormat, fighting the urge to raise his hand to knock again. He shifted his weight, adjusting the paper sack in his arms so he could lean on his cane. 

The blue front door swung open and behind it stood a small boy with wild brown hair and big eyes. For a moment the boy stood staring, a confused expression on his face, no doubt wondering who Sir Patrick was. 

Just as he opened his mouth to introduce himself Eleanor appeared behind the boy, putting a hand on the lad’s shoulder and gently steering him out of the way. 

His first thought was that she looked beautiful. He had never seen her so casual before but the look suited her. Eleanor had on a flannel pair of trousers and a long white cotton dress shirt. She wrapped her crimson robe around her as his gaze trailed down her body, landing on her barefooted feet. 

He could tell she was nervous but she swallowed and pushed a little farther forward. 

“I didn’t know what time you were coming.” She said in one breath, looking up at him with sparkling eyes. 

“You didn’t give a specific time.” He replied, cocking his head to one side. 

A light blush appeared on Eleanor’s cheeks as she reached up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear. 

The little boy next to her tugged at her robe, trying to get her attention. 

“Ellie,” he whispered, eyeing the man with distrust. “Who’s he?”

Eleanor blinked, and softly shoved the boy towards the hallway. “Go tell Mum that Sir Patrick is here.” She said, watching him hesitate before shrugging and scampering off back towards the living room. She turned, giving Sir Patrick a true smile before opening the door all the way. 

“Come in! You’re probably freezing.” She said, reaching out to gently grab the arm holding his cane and pulling him forward over the threshold. He let her tug at him, delighted in her touch.

Right as he stepped through the doorway he bent to place his bag near his feet, straightening back up to see the question forming on her lips. Before she could speak he dared to take another step towards her, bringing his hand holding his cane around her body to pull her closer. Her hands immediately rested against the lapels of his coat on his chest. 

“I missed you.” He whispered, leaning close to her ear and nuzzling her messy dark curls with his nose. 

“I-I saw you yesterday.” She replied, melting into his touch. He could feel her warm breath on his neck. The intoxicating aroma of her shampoo and just being around her was already driving him crazy. He felt her right hand snaking up his chest and over his shoulder, caressing the hair on the back of his neck. 

“But I missed you too.” She breathed, cheek resting against his own. He could feel her lips moving against his skin as she talked and after when she pressed them on his jaw. 

He inhaled, wanting nothing more than to embrace her fully when a small cough drew their attention away from each other. 

Eleanor jumped in his arms, pulling away quickly as he looked over to see an older woman smirking at the pair of them from the hallway. She had soft brown hair, similar to the small boy, who was peeking at them from the living room doorway. The woman walked closer to Sir Patrick and he could see that she and Eleanor had the same brown eyes that crinkled when they smiled. 

“I’m Minnie.” She said simply, holding out a hand to Sir Patrick. He took it quickly, feeling the firm callouses on the working woman’s fingers. He recalled that Eleanor said her mother was a laundry washer and her worn hands told the truth. 

“Sir Patrick Morgan,” he replied, turning her hand up so that he could raise it to his lips, letting them gently brush over her wrinkled knuckles. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet this wonderful young lady’s mother.” He said as he straightened back up. 

“What a gentleman!” She laughed. “Quite a catch Ellie.” She winked towards Eleanor whose pink blush turned a deeper red. 

Sir Patrick grinned, letting go of Mother Minnie’s hand to lean down again to dig through the paper sack he brought. He pulled out small pot of white poinsettias. He held the flowers out to Minnie, watching her smile up at him. “For you.” He said as she carefully took the pot of flowers from him. 

“How sweet of you!” She said with a laugh, patting Sir Patrick on the arm before she stepped back. “Well, let him in Ellie! We don’t want the poor man to freeze in the doorway.”  
Eleanor quickly shuffled Sir Patrick forward so she could close the door behind them, blocking out the Christmas chill. The warm house enveloped him and he could begin to make out the smell of something delicious cooking from farther inside the home. 

“Mum, I think the cookies are done!” a voice cried from farther inside the house as if reading his mind.

Minnie smiled again, raising the potted plant in thanks with another wink before turning and disappearing down the hallway. 

The gently tug on his coat sleeve brought him back to the present. He turned to see Eleanor, her hand drifting down his sleeve towards his hand resting on his cane handle.  
“Your coat?” She asked, finger brushing along the back of his hand as she stepped around him. 

He quickly shrugged his overcoat off, handing it off so Eleanor could hang it next to the three others on the hooks on the wall beside them. She faced him with a shy smile, eyes drifting down to the expensive three piece suit she could fully see now. 

Sir Patrick watched her bite her bottom lip, her eyelashes batting up at him as she eyed him over. 

“That’s my favorite suit of yours.” She whispered, hand trailing back over his clothed elbow. Her eyes turned dark with desire as he leaned down. He reached his hand up, brushing his knuckles over her soft cheek. They stood in each other’s presence for a moment longer, simply enjoying seeing each other. 

After a short minute Eleanor pulled away, biting her lip before a small laugh escaped her. 

“Would you like a tour?” She asked with a smile. 

“I’d love one.” He replied, grabbing the paper sack at his feet before following her down the small hallway that led to the kitchen. Across the kitchen was the living room with a single staircase in one corner. 

“Kitchen’s in here.” Eleanor said as they stepped through to the tiled kitchen, her mother Minnie was using a spatula to scrap the hot cookies onto a plate, where the young boy stood inspecting each one. The boy whipped around when they came in, bouncing over to Eleanor with a large smile. 

“Are you going to help decorate them?” He asked, hands tugging at Eleanor’s robe as he danced around her side. 

“Of course, George.” She laughed, trying to pinch his cheek. He swatted her hand away before looking up at Sir Patrick. 

“Will you help too?” He asked with big innocent eyes. 

Sir Patrick gave a closed mouth smile, staring at the small boy watching him. He didn’t particularly enjoy the company of small children. They were loud and obnoxious. Occasionally he watched them play from his office window, the small boys and girls running around to play in puddles and fake gun fights. 

Glancing over at Eleanor, who was staring back with watchful eyes, Sir Patrick knew that winning Eleanor’s heart meant winning the heart of her family as well. He would help the young boy George decorate cookies all day if it meant he could have Eleanor at the end of the evening. 

With a single nod, Sir Patrick agreed to the cookie creating, watching as George jumped with joy and ran back over to his mother. A squeeze on his arm drew his gaze down to the smiling Eleanor, looking up at him and mouthing ‘thank you’. 

“I have gifts for everyone.” He said back in a hushed voice, so that her little brother George wouldn’t overhear.

Eleanor’s eyes softened, her hand fulling looping around his arm to hug it against her. 

“You really are the sweetest.” She said, leaning into his side. “We can open them before dinner. Is that okay?” 

He nodded again, handing over the gift bag for her to set on the counter, shooing George away from it when he crept over curiously. She told her mother she was giving Sir Patrick a tour of the house before moving back to his side, tugging on his sleeve again. 

The pair exited the kitchen, walking across the hall into the living room. Eleanor linked her arms around his good one, just as she had done the night before when he was walking her home. They strolled past the fireplace, stopping to watch the flickering flames for a moment before continuing. He admired their Christmas tree as they slowly made their way up the stairs. 

She pointed out the bathroom and the closed door to her mother’s bedroom that George shared. 

“You have a room to yourself?” he asked as they passed the small hall closet and reached the end of the hallway, a cracked door on their right. 

“I needed space to study quietly and George is…not quiet.” She laughed, pushing at the door, opening it for Sir Patrick to see inside. 

A small twin sized bed with grey sheets and a handmade quilt was sitting in the left corner of the room. In the opposite corner was a simple writing desk, a pile of books stacked on top with a mess of papers and ink. 

Sir Patrick took a small step inside, eyes catching on one object in particular. On the right side of the room was the only window, and next to the window was a large painting easel. Canvases littered the ground around it, some blank white and other’s painted. A few landscape pictures drew his attention, one of a beautiful lake house during dawn. But what interested him most was a small portrait piece sticking out from behind another landscape canvas. 

“Are these yours?” He asked, walking closer to the paintings, seeing the few brushes and the painting pallet on the ground beside the easel. 

“They’re nothing special.” She said nervously, quickly stepping over to move all the art materials into a pile. 

Sir Patrick stopped her hand as she was moving to cover up the small portrait piece. With nimble fingers he gently gripped the edge of the stretched canvas, lifting the painting up so he could fully see its image. 

He blinked at his tiny oil painted image in shock. 

“ “ “ “ 

“It’s me.” He said after a minute, his face peeking around from behind the picture. 

Eleanor wanted to fling herself on her bed and let a giant hole open up in the ground under her to swallow her whole. She covered her burning face with her hands, turning away to lean against the nearby wall. 

A light touch on her shoulder made her flinch, but it remained, applying enough pressure to turn her back around to face the painting’s muse. 

Sir Patrick was looking down at her with his deep blue eyes, pupils dilated, staring intensely. 

His hand on her shoulder moved up to hold her neck, keeping a firm hold of her while her legs felt like jelly. 

He leaned forward, eyes still watching her. “Every time I think I’ve figured you out…you leave me in awe.” He whispered, shuffling even closer to her and trapping her between him and the wall. 

Eleanor felt his warmth radiating through his suit and into her chilled skin. Her eyes fell shut, her body subconsciously moving up to brush against his. The light touch of his lips against her cheek made her draw in a quick breath, knees trembling. The prickle of his mustache tickled her skin, drawing out a soft giggle. 

“W-we should probably go back down stairs.” She whispered as he pressed his lips more firmly against her cheek before trailing lighter kisses down to her jaw. 

Now she truly felt like jelly, she could barely hold herself upright, pulling slightly back to fall against the wall behind her. Sir Patrick countered her, following her movement and moving the hand that held her neck so that it was flat against the wall by her head, blocking her in his space. 

“One kiss,” he whispered at her through half lidded eyes, gleaming with desire as he stared down at her. 

“I can’t.” she breathed, nearly shaking. “I-I can’t just kiss you once.” 

She watched Sir Patrick’s jaw clench. He stepped even closer, the front of his shirt and vest pressing against her own chest. His hand on the wall fell, ghosting along her side before gently holding onto her hip as he compromised and buried his face into the crook of her neck. 

Eleanor suppressed a moan. Never before had she experienced any kind of affection like this, especially from a male suitor. Her hand were shaking at her side, thoughts of her family downstairs drifting through her mind before she quickly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him into a deep embrace. He let out a breath of hot air, warming her skin and making her bit her lip. 

“Patrick.” She whispered softly, nose nuzzling the soft hair behind his ear. He shuttered in her arms, letting out a low whine against her neck. 

She could have stayed in his arms for hours, simple content in being wrapped around him and him being wrapped around her. He had captivated her from the moment they met. In the books she read and the daydreams she had, Eleanor wanted to believe in true love. Her mother had often told her bedtime stories of the whirlwind romance her and Eleanor’s father had had when they were young lovers. 

While she had her share of dates in the past, Eleanor had never come close to a relationship like she had with Sir Patrick. And they hadn’t even gone out yet, save for the Christmas party the day before. 

Was it too fast to be this close? Her mother was just downstairs, George could appear any second. Thoughts raced through Eleanor’s mind as she held on tight to Sir Patrick, fingers combing through his pristine hair, messing up the usually well-kept locks with delight. 

She couldn’t tell exactly how long they stayed in that position, only knowing it had been too long when the faint sound of footsteps up the stairs caught her attention.  


Eleanor quickly pushed Sir Patrick away before reaching up to smooth his hair back down as he watched with dark eyes, hand still splayed on her hips trying to hold her close. She swatted him away with a wicked smile, moving to fix her own hair and get her face back to a normal hue. 

She managed to take a final deep breath before her mother appeared in the doorway with watchful eyes. “Cookies have cooled finally. They’re ready for decorating.”  


Eleanor swallowed, trying to act as calm and collected as Sir Patrick, who was leaning against her bed post with a smile playing on his lips. 

“Be down in a minute Mum.” Eleanor replied, attempting a smile. Her mother eyes her closely, squinting a bit before nodding and disappearing from the doorway.  


Immediately Eleanor rushed over to slap at Sir Patrick’s arm. “You could have gotten us in so much trouble!” she hissed playfully, laughing when his reply was to wrap an arm around her and pull her back into his chest. 

“Let’s go decorate cookies, Love. And need I remind you, you still have a gift to open.” 

Eleanor wiggled in his hold, pulling away to stare up into his blue eyes. She brought her hand up to cup his cheek and hold his gaze, biting her lip happily when his mustache twitch up with a smile.  


“You…are the best gift I’ve ever gotten.” She whispered lovingly before standing on her toes to press her lips against his cheek.


End file.
